


Reflections

by kayxpc



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andreil, Angst, M/M, Neil’s insecurity about his resemblance to Nathan, mentions of Nathan - Freeform, mentions of past violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 08:11:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12860430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayxpc/pseuds/kayxpc
Summary: Neil has self-image issues and Andrew does what he does best





	Reflections

The room was warm, so much so that condensation curled around the corners of the bathroom mirror. The edges blurred around Neil’s black long sleeve, the soft material clinging to his every move courtesy of Andrew. His jeans were black too, but the lack of color only made his features stand out more. He guessed that was the point, he wasn’t oblivious to the way people looked at him, at least, he wasn’t oblivious to Andrew. That was the only one that mattered when he could barely bring himself to look at his own reflection.

He studied the dip of his collarbone, still sporting a fading bruise from Andrew’s teeth and shuddered hard when he pressed his fingers to it.

 _Good_ , he thought.

He forced his eyes up another few inches, to the red mark on his neck. _Good. I’m good_ , he told himself. He met his own icy gaze in the mirror. _I am not my father._

Something in his stomach turned, the room twisting into a dark hallway, his father’s bruising grip on his arm as he dragged him. Nathaniel had whimpered when a business partner of his fathers brushed his freshly burned shoulder, a tear falling down his cheek before he could think to stop it. It had hurt so terribly, the iron had pulled the skin until he was left raw and bleeding on the living room floor mere hours before. Sobs had ripped their way out of his throat while his mother forced him into his dinner jacket.

“Excuse us,” his father had said, leading seven year old Nathaniel out. All he had seen were the glow of his fathers eyes as he covered his mouth and pressed his fist into the festering wound, watching as he bit back a scream, hot tears soaking his face.

“Go clean yourself up, quickly. I will deal with you after our guests leave.”

Neil tore his gaze away, blinking rapidly when he felt the dry sting of not blinking. He looked at his hair instead, too long and a shade darker because of the winter time sunshine. He flicked his eyes to Andrew in the doorway and wondered how long he’d been there — wondered how long his knuckles had been clenched around the countertop.

“Tell me,” Andrew said quietly. His face was as calm as unbroken water but the breeze of Neil’s flashback had sent ripples through his facade.

Neil pried his aching fingers off of the counter. His eyes fell to the floor. “It’s nothing.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed and he stepped inside so that he could shut the world out, leaving the two of them only. As if there had ever been anyone else. “We talk about it now or we talk about it later.”

Fear ran down Neil’s spine. Not of Andrew– never of Andrew. Of the reminder that he couldn’t run and that for the most part, he didn’t want to. That he dealt with his problems now and that he had Andrew to hold him together through it all. Andrew was his constant in a world of terribly inconsistent things.

“Yes or no?”

Neil breathed, “yes.”

Andrew crowded him against the counter and cupped his chin, forcing his gaze up. Neil blinked at himself and then at Andrew in the mirror behind him.

“Andrew–“

Andrew jostled him. “How many times must I tell you. You do not look like him.”

Neil looked at himself quickly, blue eyes flecked with darker blue, auburn hair glinting red in the bathroom light. “I do.”

“No,” Andrew said. He maneuvered them so that he was sitting on the counter, Neil between his legs with a view of himself over Andrew’s shoulder. He thumbed over the high point of Neil’s cheeks. “Nathan did not have these. He never spent years in the sun, fighting, surviving.”

“Freckles don’t change anything,” Neil argued.

“Stop talking.” Andrew demanded. He trailed his hand down to Neil’s mouth.

“You think your lips are the same? Made of nothing but hateful words and harsh commands?” Neil stifled a shiver at the feel of Andrew’s fingerprint dragging across his lower lip.

“No. They are for telling off reporters and ravens. They are for this,” Andrew mused, taking Neil’s fingers and pressing them to a purple hickey on the side of his neck, just as Neil had done.

 _Good_.

“You think that these are the same?” Andrew asked, tracing gently over Neil’s eyelids, which had fallen shut under his hands. They were pale and fluttering the way Andrew had seen them so many times, in different contexts.

“Nathan was a monster. He was cruel and evil and now he is in the ground,” Andrew said, voice so solid that Neil felt it in his bones. “You are not. You are Neil Abram Josten and you are here with me.”

“Andrew,” Neil murmured, eyes blinking open as if on cue.

“You look nothing like him.”

Neil exhaled his frustration, staring back at his own reflection with his jaw set for a long minute. His eyes weren’t the exact same as Nathan’s, but when you paired it with his hair, the resemblance grew. Instead, he focused on his eyes and focused on what Andrew saw. He counted the light freckles on his cheeks, for every one it was another thing apart from Nathan.

He drug his gaze back to Andrew, inches away and pining him with his eyes like he always did. “Okay,” Neil said. He wasn’t sure he believed him yet, not fully, but he focused on his eyes again, and when Andrew’s nose brushed his he imagined the freckles. He felt his lips press into Andrew’s, so achingly familiar, and he thought that one day, maybe he could.

**Author's Note:**

> Come prompt me / yell at me / etc etc on tumblr @ dropss0fjupiter


End file.
